


Stoppage Time

by urbaninja



Series: Everyone Lives [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, everyone lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbaninja/pseuds/urbaninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s here, and alive and he has a dead man to thank for it. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Everyone Lives AU.</p><p>Wyoming survives being stabbed by Tucker, and finds himself continuing a game he thought was over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stoppage Time

Wyoming wakes up in a room that is wholly unfamiliar to him.

It’s jarring. The last he thing remembers is a very intense pain and then nothing. He tries to sit up and find that pain hasn’t left and it sears through his side, causing him to collapse back down onto the bed. 

He lies there, trapped in a position of helplessness until the pain forces him unconscious again.

\--

The next time he wakes up, Wyoming is honestly surprised to be alive. He still doesn’t know where he is or what happened to him, but he assumes those answers will be forthcoming. It’s enough at the moment to be alive. 

It takes some effort for him to sit up, and he winces at each spike of pain that shoots up his side. He’s heavily bandaged, and admittedly, is reluctant to see what’s under them.

“You really shouldn’t be trying to sit up,” comes a familiar voice from the door. Wyoming looks over, somewhat surprised to see his old friend. For a man who died, Butch Flowers looks surprisingly lively. 

“I’ve been lying down long enough.” His voice is weak with disuse but he manages.

“Two weeks to be exact. You were stabbed, Reg,” Florida replies. 

“Yes, I seem to recall that.” The constant pain from the wound serves as an ever-present reminder. He really should have taken out Private Tucker when he had the chance.

Florida moves to a chair beside the bed.

“So…What happened with the plan?”

Florida sighs and that’s all Wyoming needs to hear. He had a feeling that the plan was going to go south. Really, he couldn’t recall a single plan that did in Freelancer. Some improvisation usually occurred somewhere in the middle. 

“It didn’t work then.”

Florida shakes his head and launches into an explanation that Wyoming doesn’t really care about. It’s all really excuses at this point, but the end of Florida’s attracts his attention.

“So you ran.”

“If you want to call it that, then that’s what I did. But at that point, I don’t think anything I could have done would have changed the outcome.”

Wyoming gives Florida a long look. There were a lot of other options, but at the same time, he knew that Florida would never take them. The look Florida gives in return is evidence enough of that. That heart of his was going to get him killed one day. Or it already did. Either way it would happen again.

“So, instead you saved me. You really didn’t need to.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve lost enough friends, Reg. At least let me save one life.” 

The words hang in the air and there’s another silence. Wyoming doesn’t know much about Florida’s past aside from the fact that the man had bad luck when it came to battles. The exhaustion and worry is evident on Florida’s face, expressions that Wyoming has never really pegged Florida to even have. It’s foreign and it bothers him. 

A lot bothers him about this whole situation. Butch should be dead. He should be dead. And somehow he’s not. He’s here, and alive and he has a dead man to thank for it. 

“Well, regardless, I guess I owe you for that.”

“I’ll put it on your tab,” Florida replies, relief evident in his voice. “Are you really that bothered about the plan?”

“Not really. It was ridiculous as far as grand schemes go and seemed more a way to keep us busy. Mostly I regret that I lost out on a rather large paycheck,” Wyoming says, impressed with himself. That statement was partially true.

“Good to know you haven’t changed at all, Reg.” Florida stands and claps him on the shoulder. Wyoming winces, but manages to share in Florida’s laugh. 

He trails off though, with the knowledge that he has a lot to think about.

**

For the first time in a long while, Wyoming finds himself with time on his hands.

The past few years he’s constantly been in motion, moving from one job to the next, never staying in one location for too long, avoiding Freelancer as much as he can.

Now things seem to have come to a complete stop. He’s confined to bed until his injury heals. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, he’s a dead man. He’s stopped and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s always had a cavalier attitude towards death. While self-preservation has always been a priority, Wyoming had always figured that when he died, he died. Game over, no hard feelings, he lost, simple as that. He’d never factored in second chances, preferring instead the ending where he escaped by the skin of his teeth. 

What did one do with a second chance?

And that brought him to Florida. Florida, who had died, who was dead. Wyoming knew he was dead, he’d seen Florida’s corpse. He had sat and mourned the loss of one of the few people he’d actively and honestly called a friend. And now Florida was back, alive, and as much as a ray of sunshine as he’d ever been.

Wyoming couldn’t say why this bothered him. Maybe it was the fact that it seemed unnatural. Maybe it was the fact that Wyoming felt cheated about his sadness, that there had been no need to feel those emotions. Or that he had more of an attachment to someone than he cared to admit. Maybe it was the fact that Florida had seemed to adjust back into everything so easily, whereas he was struggling.

He’d been fairly sure the game had ended in that canyon, so how did one move forward from that?

**

The absence of Gamma didn’t help.

Wyoming had always assumed he’d grown used to not having the AI. The overwhelming silence, the feeling like he was always missing something. But they’d been put back together, even if they were like two puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. For all his apathy, Gamma was strangely fond of Wyoming and didn’t like leaving him alone.

Wyoming missed the buzz in the back of his head, the AI quietly fussing over him, even if he’d never admit to such a thing. He missed being able to share jokes with his AI.

He hasn’t asked Florida what happened to Gamma, and if Florida knows, he hasn’t told him. Wyoming hates to admit it but he’s worried.

More so than he’s been the other times he and Gamma have been separated.

He doesn’t want to admit that he hates being alone.

**

The presence of 479er does help. 

While he’s generally left to his own devices, given the fact that he’s bedridden (all attempts to get up are met with a stabbing pain in his side), 479er makes a point coming to talk to him. Mostly because she’s bored and there’s no one else in the house. They talk simply because the silence can be smothering.

She hasn’t lost any of her spunk, which Wyoming is grateful for. He was always fond of the former pilot and she had never expressed a dislike for him. Annoyance yes, but for the most part they got along. If there’s any tension now it’s the fact that, after they’d managed to patch Wyoming up, Florida had left him in her bed with doctor’s orders that he wasn’t to be moved. The bed’s large enough for both of them but the fact that Niner’s feathers have been ruffled is enough and Wyoming must bear the brunt of it. 

Which mostly means he lets it slide off him with a snide remark and eventually force of habit takes over and she’s used to it.

He learns more about her then than when they were in Freelancer. He discovers that her name is Helena and that she’d been grounded after a crash had messed up her leg. Surprisingly not when the Mother of Invention went down, but a few missions after that. A routine transport mission that went awry when they met some people who hadn’t been told the war was over. Now she was the Recovery Command, hating every minute of it. 

Wyoming reaches over and pats her on the shoulder in a way that’s meant to be comforting, but just comes off as awkward instead. He’s never been very good at making people feel better. 

She doesn’t push his hand away. He’s obviously done something right.

**

It takes weeks but Wyoming can finally get up and move about the house by himself. It’s a relief to no longer be bed ridden and while it feels like he has to completely re-learn how to walk, he works through it, there’s pain but there’s less than there was, glad to be on his own two feet again. 

Helena’s out running errands when he takes over the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror assessing the damage. There’s a large, ugly scar on the side that was stabbed. He rubs it absently, a thousand curses for Lavernius Tucker running through his mind. Wyoming has never been one for revenge, but he may have to have words with his former bounty if they should meet again. 

That decided, he treats himself to a long shower, lavishing the feeling of being fully clean. He then settles himself in front of the bathroom mirror again. During his time recovering, his hair has grown out and a beard has started to form, and neither of those will do. He attacks his hair with a pair of scissors he claimed from the kitchen until it’s short again. It’s not perfect, but it works for the time being. He shaves with the same intensity, cutting himself at least twice but he doesn’t care. 

By the time he’s done, Wyoming is pleased. He feels more like himself than he has in weeks. It’s not one hundred percent, but it’s progress.

He dresses himself in fatigues that Helena brought for him, and turns his attention to the bedroom, where he begins to strip the sheets off the bed. He can’t abide the idea of lying in them after the efforts he took to get clean. But then exhaustion takes over and he collapses on the mattress without the new sheets on. 

Helena finds him there later. She doesn’t say anything about the state of the bathroom or the bed, instead choosing to comment on his appearance.

“Can’t believe you’re still sporting that stupid moustache.”

“You know you missed it, dear.”

**

Despite the fact that his strength is returning, Wyoming continues to lay low. This bothers him. He’s technically a dead man, and so resuming his job as a bounty hunter should be relatively easy. He knows where his amour is, and really he should be able to take it, walk out the door and start to reestablish his reputation.

Instead he falls into routine.

This bothers him. As much as he hates to admit it, being bested has rattled his confidence, and now that he’s almost died, he doesn’t want to go through it again. He’s not sure where this desire to live has come from but it’s there and it’s strong. 

Not that he has much of a life to live. He helps out around the house and works in the yard and the evenings they eat dinner and talk or watch television. But somehow, it’s become preferable to risking his life in the aftermath of the war.

Reginald supposes that it’s nice to have somewhere to call home.

**

They’re watching TV when there’s a knock at the door. Helena is the one to get up. Despite the issues with her leg, she’s still more nimble than Reginald is. His wound is still healing, much to his annoyance.

He nods at Florida when the other walks into the room. 

“Reg, you’re still here. Thought you’d be long gone by now.” 

“Nowhere else to go at the moment, mate,” Reginald replies. “And I haven’t felt up to looking for new opportunities.”

Florida shrugs and divests himself of his armor. Once that’s done, he tells them of his adventures. Helena’s attention is more on the TV and Reginald rolls his eyes through the description of Blood Gulch. He’d hated that blasted canyon.

They both perk up at the mention of Carolina. Helena, particularly, looks relieved. Reginald, on the other hand, is not sure what to think. By the end, he hadn’t really had a lot of respect for Carolina, feeling that her leadership had tanked in light of the arrival of Tex. But the idea that more of them survived is amazing to him, since they’d seemed so determined to take each other out. 

It almost comes as a relief, the knowledge that there are others who have some inkling of what he’s been through.

**

Helena leaves and for the first time, Reginald and Florida are in the same room together since Reg first woke up. It’s awkward as neither one really knows what to say. 

“You look better,” Florida says finally.

“You haven’t seen the scar,” Reg replies, “I’m surprised you’re still alive.” In many senses, both that he survived whatever his mission was, and that whatever the aliens did, it was still in effect months later. That whole idea still bothers him, and it turns out that he’s not as past is as he thought he was. He searches for a change in subject.

“I don’t suppose you found out about Tex?” 

“Not really. I heard rumors about a ship that crashed at a simulation outpost, but it was a ways off so investigating was kind of out of the way. I couldn’t find anything concrete beyond the rumors either.”

They lapse into another silence. 

“So, what happens next?”

“I’m thinking I might try to find everyone else. At least, confirm that they’re alive.”

“Why? We were practically at each other’s throats by the end. Plus I think if you bring anyone back, Helena might just end your second life.”

Freelancer is supposed to be done. He’s supposed to have moved on. He’s not ready to have those attachments come back; he’d given up on them.

“Because things are different. There’s no more leader board, no more project really. Just a bunch of us who’ve been through something no one else has. I just think if we’re together, we might be able to heal. I’ve had an AI to now, remember.”

But there’s something in the fervency of Florida’s voice that makes Reg pause. Florida’s always been a sincere person, but when he speaks it seems even stronger. And while he’s trying to remain skeptical, he can’t ignore the fact that there might be something to his words. Or maybe that he wants there to be. 

“I mean, we’ve survived this far, so I think we can take whatever comes next. We’re going to be alright.”

It scares Wyoming how much he wants to believe that.

**

Despite the routine and sense of security he’s managed to find in this house, Wyoming is still a light sleeper. So when he hears the sound of a door opening in his dream, he’s instantly awake. Helena shifts beside him, but he does nothing to wake her. Instead, he quietly gets out of bed, and takes out the gun he had hidden in the night side table. 

He’s healed enough that he can move quietly, and makes his way down to the kitchen. He glances in, seeing the light of the fridge. There’s a brief glance to the living room where he can make up Florida’s standing figure and rolls his eyes at the other man’s ridiculous sleeping habits. Regardless, intruder confirmed, he takes a breath, cocks the gun and steps into the kitchen.

He finds York rifling through the cheese drawer.

Wyoming is not sure whether to be pleased or annoyed that he’s right after all this time.

**

York’s arrival causes a stir in the house, and soon enough they’re all sitting on the couch, listening to his story. 

Wyoming is only half-paying attention. 

Mostly because he’s trying to deal with the fact that he feels bad for York. In a genuine sense. It’s a new feeling and one he’s not fond of since he’s never really liked York. They got off on the wrong foot the moment they met, and things just carried forward from there.

But he feels bad because he knows that Delta is gone.

He knew the moment he saw York at the fridge. His eyes slightly unfocused, and now, the halting way he tells his story, stumbling over words. Some of that can be attributed to hunger and exhaustion, but there’s a bit more too it. 

He sighs. He’ll probably have to do something about that.

**

He waits a couple days until York is settled before handing him a list.

“What’s this?” York asks through breakfast. Wyoming frowns at the terrible manners, but withholds a comment.

“Things to do. Time to start earning your keep, York,” he explains.

“Why do I have to do all the yard work? Hasn’t Niner been nagging you about doing it?”

“Still healing, old chap. I volunteered to go get groceries instead. So, yard work falls to you. Florida’s busy with the indoor tasks.”

York gets a look on his face that reminds Wyoming of a sulky teenager, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Look, keeping busy. It helps. The silence can be overwhelming sometimes.”

There’s a moment of silence as understanding slowly dawns on York’s face. 

“Gotcha. Thanks.”

**

The moment he gets to the grocery store, Wyoming regrets volunteering for the errand. As much as he as resigned himself to domesticity for the time being, he has not embraced carrying out mundane tasks with any measure of enthusiasm. 

It was different when he was on the run. Then it was just like carrying out a mission, acquiring supplies for a safe house or something to give him enough energy to get to the next town. Now it just feels like a chore and Wyoming resolves to ensure that Florida carries out this task for the foreseeable future. He’ll just hunt down dust bunnies.

And his thoughts continue in this manner until he sees her. She’s standing in an aisle, staring hungrily at the shelves, ragged, tired and dirty, but undeniably familiar. Wyoming considers that this town must be putting out a siren call of some sort; since a regular grocery store is not the location he imagined reuniting with Agent South Dakota.

Judging by the shelf she’s staring at and the proximity of the door, Wyoming figures she’s about to do something stupid. He grabs her wrist as she reaches up to grab a box of granola bars and she glares at him. He returns the look with a familiar smile, that falters slightly when he sees the same faraway look at that York had. Her expression is surprised at first, and they have a wordless conversation, before she wrenches her hand away and stalks out of the store.

Wyoming finishes his task and heads outside, finding her parked on a small bench outside of the store. He hands her a premade sandwich and a bottle of water, which she devours eagerly.

“Fuck, you’re worse than North sometimes, you know that?” she snaps.

“Good to see you as well, South,” he replies, unbothered. On second thought, this is exactly how he figured their reunion would go.

“The fuck are you doing here anyway? I thought you were dead.” 

“You and the rest of the world, but as you can see that’s a lie. Almost was dead, but that’s a story for another time. And your story sounds so much more exciting.”

“Not really. Just drifting. It’s all I’ve got now, considering what happened.” She drains the other half of the bottle of water. “So you’re living here now? Didn’t peg you as the type to stay in one place.”

“It’s not by choice. I’m in recovery.” Though that statement is starting to become less true as the days go by. Indeed, Wyoming has felt well enough that he could probably wander off on his own and be fine. But he finds himself reluctant, and Florida would probably follow him and drag him back if he did leave. 

South looks like she’s about to say something, but remarkably holds her tongue. “Well, good luck with that.” She stands to leave but once again Wyoming has a hold on her.

“You’re not going to get far like that. You’re exhausted South.”

“Have been for weeks. Hasn’t stopped me yet,” South replies with a growl. “I have a safe-house the next town over. I’ll be fine.”

It’s a lie and Wyoming knows it. South is far too impatient for something like that. He sighs. Helena is not going to like what he’s about to suggest next, and he blames Florida entirely. But he’s always liked South for reasons he has yet to figure out and he’s not about to let her starve.

“We both know that’s a lie, dear, and I have a better idea. Come with me, and I’ll be able to secure you food, a place to sleep and even a chance to clean up. And I’m sure you won’t mind the company either. They’ll certainly be happy to see you.”

South is absolutely confused as Wyoming starts to usher her down the street. She protests but it’s half-hearted as exhaustion and hunger start to settle in. He supports her most of the way home, and is extremely pleased with the reactions of Florida, York, and Niner when he presents her as if he’s found a lost puppy.

As South is dragged away to be properly fed, Florida catches Wyoming’s eye with a knowing look and he shrugs it off.

He’s never been able to ignore Florida anyway.


End file.
